


His heart breaks

by Ly_chan415



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Character Death, How Do I Tag, I don't say that he actually dies though, I'm Sorry, Is this heavy angst? I don't think it is, M/M, OiFuta Week 2020, heartbreaks, suicide?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27566182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ly_chan415/pseuds/Ly_chan415
Summary: Futakuchi's heart breaks.Quite painfully.
Relationships: Futakuchi Kenji/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	His heart breaks

Heartbreak was not over-exaggerated. 

Heartbreak isn’t just emotional pain. 

It’s physical. 

Futakuchi can feel it. 

Every little bit of mockery he receives, a web of hurt slices his heart, chopping it up, burning, his heart being served on a silver platter for hungry depression to drip saliva from its mouth and swallow it whole. His heart is a delicious meal on the menu, and it's popular with pain. They like to chew, chew, chew, grinding and slicing with teeth and knives, and then, they swallow him.

The insecurity of love makes his heart beat painfully, like it was about to rip out of his chest and make him bleed. The veins pull taut, wrapping around his insecurities like cuffs, He feels restricted. He doesn't know which lines he's able to cross, and which he's unable to cross. He doesn't want to hurt anyone. 

The daggers of words spat out at him clenches his heart in an iron claw, gripping so hard he feels his breath leaving him, his heart is constricting and pounding as much as it could to make him live again. His lungs sob at him.

He needs to breathe. 

He’s being pulled apart, then he’s being put together again forcefully, being glued together like pieces from different puzzles. They feel wrongly placed, he wants to rip them apart and put them back so that he feels alright again, but he knows he’ll die if he takes his heart apart. 

Ironic. He is willing to die. But he’s scared to die by his own hands. He’s scared of the love which could turn into hate at any moment. He’s frightened of losing his friends, his family, but worst of all, he doesn’t want to lose Oikawa. 

Every little voice inside him tells him that heartbreak doesn’t feel anything like what he normally feels. 

Futakuchi is scared. 

How bad is heartbreak, then? 

How bad is losing love? 

How bad is the pain? 

_ How bad is love?  _

\---

“Hey, love.” The taller man steps over to him, and Futakuchi is greeted by a mockingly, prince-like tone.

“Hey.” Oikawa winks. He flicks his hand through Futakuchi’s hair, letting hazel locks rest on ivory forehead, combing it away from pretty eyes which trap and treasure sparks.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

Futakuchi smirks and he suggestively leans forward, and their faces are even closer, and they can feel each other’s heat radiating like two flickering candles. 

“I know. I always look good.” A sly tongue wets salmon lips. “Don’t you think so, too?”

“Yeah.” 

Lips flutter and kiss.

Soft breaths escape from their mouths and they smile under the stars. 

\---

Futakuchi wakes up, and he shivers. He’s cold. And naked, for the matter. He glances around the room, and, after a moment of surprise, he finds Oikawa lying next to him, lying further away than they used to be. 

Futakuchi grips his sheets. His knuckles go whiter than the duvet. He wants to tap Oikawa's back, but he refrains himself. 

“...Cold.” 

Oikawa’s presence is cold, alarmingly so, and Futakuchi trembles. 

You’re still sleeping in my bed like before. 

When did it become like this?

_ Why is it so, so cold? _

\---

“Can we talk?” 

Futakuchi’s terrified. 

He almost refuses but he steadies himself, holding himself up by leaning again the cold wall next to his bed, shutting his eyes to make the red in his vision fade. 

He clenched his fists, almost ripping the material of Oikawa’s hoodie. 

“Yeah.” 

—-

“Hey.” No love this time. 

“Hello, Oikawa-san.” 

They stand in awkward silence, Oikawa seemingly preparing his words and Futakuchi telling himself it would all be alright. 

“So, I’m going to cut straight to the point.” 

Futakuchi waits. The drumming in his ears goes louder, higher, until it sounds like a scream. He wants to scream too.

“I want to break up.” 

Red. 

“I- I know it’s sudden, but you don’t seem to be happy with me. And, I don’t think-“ 

_ Not happy?  _

Futakuchi’s only reason he was still alive was Oikawa. 

_ I don’t think what?  _

_What are you going to say?_

“I don’t think-“ 

His rib cage rattles, chest convulses, breath trembles. 

_ What are you going to say?  _

“I don’t think I love you anymore.” 

Red. 

He feels something in his chest pop. 

He feels something warm and wet inside him. 

His body shakes. 

Vision bloody. 

There’s a sick taste in his mouth. 

He feels creaking, he feels his body screaming in agony. 

He feels stabbing pain on the left side of the chest. 

Something shatters.

He feels shards. 

Pain.

He feels,

_ His heart break.  _

—-

Futakuchi stands in the middle of his room, kitchen knife swinging dangerously from hand. His gaze is panicked, in a frenzy as he chants the toxic prayer. 

“He doesn’t love me, he doesn’t love me….”

His heart threatens to jump out of his chest to leave him to bleed, and Futakuchi is more than willing to let it do so. He wants to feel anything but pain, anything. He wants his heart to stop piecing back together.He doesn’t want his broken bits to be forced and glued again. He doesn’t want to fix it for it to be broken again.

“He doesn’t love me, he doesn’t love me…” 

Why was he living? His heart was broken. How can someone live without a proper heart? How can someone live with a broken heart? 

No one can. 

It’s too painful. Moving hurts Futakuchi, he wants to scream out loud and yank his heart off his heartstrings. 

“He doesn’t love me, he doesn’t love me…” 

His breaths come out in short puffy gasps, he shakes his head in terror. He doesn’t know what’s happening to him. He’s scared.

“He doesn’t- he doesn’t-”

His mind is a whirlpool of insecurity and fear and pain, he’s drowning, he wants to die, he wants to let go, he wants his crazy heart to rest and stop. 

_Stop beating,_ he wills. _Stop beating, let me die._

“He hates me.” 

With a horrifying sob, he raises the knife and shoves it into his chest, and blood flows like his tears. Red stains the carpet like ruby gems getting spilled out of a jewelry box onto a glass table. 

He stabs himself. 

And finally, finally, he’s released from heartbreak. 

After all, 

He broke it himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Yessss back to my usual angst how wonderful  
> I mean... fluff is hard.  
> But angst is too. Hehe  
> Thank you for reading <33


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